Ch.1 – Background;

of Morecambe bay-NHS

(Royal Lancaster Infirmary) and Hospice origins et al.

Ch.2 – Poster of group (eiere)

Reports,any relevant case histories (to be added tp over time.

Ch.3 – Policies, Ideologies/theories, Patients charter..

Ch.4 –  The Law;in some other countries and UK.  (A comparative view).

Ch.5 –  Is our policies and procedures, .. & -systems compatible with the

Human Rights convention, human rights,,,( magna carte and ,civil rights?

Ch. – .Hospice spending (and gross consolidation income, St Johns)

Is it Proportionate to their expenditure, needs?

Where is all the money going?

Part 2.

Newspaper Reports

Hospice and hospital/NHS clippings/stories (80% of hospice patients)…

Is this a a way of making money and for what

Accountability

Transparency

Congruence (Practise what they claim)?

Maintaining, preserving life,, extending life?

Liverpool pathways, government assisted data bases

Agenda 21

Who is really benefiting?

A micro-

Discussion and conclusion.

Where can you go to get some peace?
Where can you go to get some calm?
What possibly can you do to turn that clock back?

The minute hand just keeps groaning on as I remember at my grandmamas on Lancaster place [B/urn],
Norah Booths clock proudly sat on the mantlepiece; I often frequented a visit just sitting there, if she answered the door,
with our tea in bone china cups & on special occasions out came the after eight’s dinner mints from her faded blue style 1950’s cupboards.
On Lancaster place & Irvine Rd…I seem to recall…

[I remember grandad also called Thomas, another one named after my dad, sometimes had his 50’s style midi fire burning away with his handkerchiefs burning on them and toilet tissue stuck on his face where he had cut himself shaving on occasions]
God that’ made me giggle.
Tick tick tick and how the years have gone by & now even my beloved parents have passed away like many;
but not because of COVID 19 I’m glad, as that must be harder to bear,
he passed recently and his two brothers … they never fell out they all always remained friends.
My g/parents died about 35 years ago, wow go and visit their graves in Pleasington cemetery if you can find it,
you’ll be amazed at what you can find, even the dead have stories to tell.
{Theres a 16-year-olds small old grave simply saying;
‘To live in Christ,
to die is gain, God that stuck in my head}. Poor dear robbed of his life!

I did my best at my peril ‘so I’m out’ [as my beloved mother would say]; if they do not approach others and listen to their stories
even over years, for what do I care now, very little these days, very few neither Never thought about me!
Some people are diligent & work behind the scenes but I’ve never spoken out, to now.
I think I speak for a legion of us for there are many.
That’s what dad wanted. At that time.
And my best friend’s lives cut short I know what happened you were turned away and not tested but …
Times running short what a mess the world is in.

All this time has passed;
nieces and nephews, very glamorous not like in my day, handsome and tall but unlike our & my parent’s generation,
family lives have somewhat disintegrated like many others like the archetypal social construction of a family at war, descended into chaos some may say, because
just like many other stories I’ve heard some want more while others have been swept away and deserted and more…
no voice, no choice, no rights!

The word archetypal suggests some families may be able to reconcile if anyone listens,
just like the Great flood in Noah’s time, maybe there will be only a few saved if end times are approaching
and as in my fathers Thoma’s favorite book, he tried to live by;
there was only but a few saved who went into the arch promised better times to come.

Back to the graveyard, where my ex and my g/parents lay,
even my mothers’ mother who died of the BRCA gene lay’s at Blackamoor I think
[annie Pleckenzuck, a polish lady,
came to live here & attended B/burn arts club, I believe mothers biological dad was a wealthy man from Clitheroe but they did not meet again
when I conducted my research, as mum had said, she died of breast cancer, others have had, 36 years or 37 was her lifespan, in human years].
for the breast family history clinic [& St. Marys in M/cheser for those genetic tests
& got the answers nobody wants including me], but that’s life some say.
What lastly concerns me my mum told me she was an orphan but Annie’s death certificate said the name of the deceased,
it seems sometimes you never really know someone, that’s my opinion & I Am sticking to it now!
Did she grow up with the old ladies or in the hostel in Lytham, where granny died too,
I’ll likely never know but who knows…
someday we all will!

To some extent, biology is destiny if you do not pay attention & take heed.
My grandad was a manager in an old cotton mill,
my father a Tatler, in the borough of Blackburn given the Latin nickname
‘Arte de labore’.
I hope I have these spellings right but it’s not to any avail.
Not in these dark times, we’re living in and the graveyards littered with all ages,
& dug out ones ready for their next victims or some may say those deserving a rest…

Lastly at Witton Park cemetery & crematorium, UUmmm the after not a nice thought;
we sat in my car & I pondered how to deal with the loss of both my parents especially now,
in these dark times: God bless you all.
The cemetery crows were crowing,
the dickie birds were happily singing,
and my boyfriend Pablo buried decades ago,
and I wondered if I could get a sign from the heavens to see they were near,
all of a sudden there appeared in the cemetery at the crematorium right next to my car,
an oldy worldly stone book,
a headstone of a man called,
can you believe this, Thomas Booth, yes really it’s true.
And right on the next row back to back in front of Thoma’s grave was a gravestone with the name of Elizabeth Ann:
OMG what a delight, I know they too are OK.

Thou they have ‘ascended’ from here,
& all the others passed on to the next place,
[adamic death some call it]
they have another miniature resting pace next to their beloved Silverdale,
in Yealand Conyers at the RC church, too.
Courtesy from me, funny really that’s my initials, it cost a lot but money is to of much interest to me,
it was quite a process but some of them are there they now have a few resting paces please don’t scatter everything away.
It’s on the hallowed ground a requisite of many faiths including Islam and more.
Anyhow he is near his brother & I hope to join them there,
I don’t know about you but this worlds terminally ill, don’t you agree.

Its spring mother’s favorite season, she said to me before she died upon the tops at Hutton Roof;
‘The lambs are playing,
the daffodils are out,
[& her favorite robbin’s are about].
How melancholy just to sit there & remember them but also, very sad.
The graveyard, a place of peace.
~Rachel~.